


Marked

by TheSightlessSniper



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Smut, I blushed writing a lot of the smut, M/M, OOC, Out of Character, Slow Burn, Violence, What may be my smuttiest smut scene to date, mentions of abuse, mentions of human-trafficking, our boys are hopeless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSightlessSniper/pseuds/TheSightlessSniper
Summary: "Word somehow gotten out about it. A month after the crash, they’d had a knock on the door, and Grammy had been bullied into a corner, threatened with unspeakable things until she had given him up to them. Kicking and screaming, he was dragged out of the house and thrown into the back of a black van, and eleven-year-old Mike Ross disappeared off the face of the planet."





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> For my Marvey Secret Santa giftee ljothings! Hey there! Happy holidays! Hope this fic gives you at least one thing you hoped for, and that you enjoy it! <3

When Mike Ross’s parents died in an accident when he was eleven years old, Grammy had never wanted to sell him. He had been born with an obvious marking, covering the left half of his collarbone and pointing towards his shoulder like a distorted arrow. The only people who had known about it were his teacher and his two best friends, and all of them had been sworn to secrecy about the Mark.

Word somehow got out about it. A month after the crash, they’d had a knock on the door, and Grammy had been bullied into a corner, threatened with unspeakable things until she had given him up to them. Kicking and screaming, he was dragged out of the house and thrown into the back of a black van, and eleven-year-old Mike Ross disappeared off the face of the planet.

 

‘You have to see the evidence for yourself, Harvey. The guy had four of them.’

‘Jesus…’

‘Three dead from injuries, one survivor. This fucking Mark bullshit has been out of control for too damn long.’

This kind of case wasn’t uncommon. Those born with the Mark—a perfect wing shape seemingly burned somewhere into their flesh—were believed to be holders of a mark of an angel who had accidentally stumbled through a hole in Heaven’s floor, their souls falling into the wombs of pregnant humans on earth to be born and walk among them. Where the idea that they were able to release you of your own sins and bring you to Heaven with them when they died had come from was a mystery, but it had started yet another filthy, sleazy market for kidnappings and the buying and selling of human beings.

Harvey Specter was used to dealing with Mark cases. His law career had begun in corporate law, dealing with mergers and acquisitions. But when his niece had been born with a wing squarely carved into the space between her tiny shoulder blades, and the first reaction of the delivering doctor had been to attempt to put a purchase price on her, his priorities had quickly changed. He’d sworn that he was no bleeding heart, but Jessica had still labelled him as such when he took on the first pro-bono; a young woman kept as a slave since she was fourteen, subject to ritual abuse and bodily harm in an attempt to be let into paradise by the priest at her church. The ultimate hypocrisy; the holy performing most unholy acts upon another.

In contrast, Harvey’s own beliefs regarding the Marks was solidly with what had already been postulated, theorised, and tested by years of scientific studies—that those born with the Mark were simple humans with a minor genetic mutation making them more likely to have an excellent memory and a greater capacity for learning.

He stepped around the black bags containing the bodies of the three deceased. Three examples of potential wasted by another extremist idiot. The world really didn’t change one bit. The man who had been arrested was Edward Palmer, a fifty-two years old divorcee with no children, but a lot of money to do whatever he wanted with, and what he had wanted was human beings that might be a free pass through the pearly gates when he bit the dust.

The only living victim had been cut from his bonds, wrapped in a blanket that made him look younger than his supposed twenty-five years. Scruffy blond hair was caked in oil and dirt, and a visible Mark right on his collarbone. Poor guy had never stood a chance at a normal life.

The man’s blue eyes suddenly locked with his, startling in their intensity. They were bloodshot from crying and fearful, but that made them no less blue, no less captivating as they blinked up at him. The man’s mouth opened and closed a few times, swallowing thickly, but nothing came out.

The spell was broken as documents were pressed into his hands by one of the officers. ‘This is Mike Ross. No living relatives or acquaintances.’

‘He has nowhere to go?’

The cop nodded. ‘He got the news his grandmother died last year. He was an only child, orphan. Parents died when he was eleven, and his two best friends from school were found shot dead a few days ago. Kid’s got literally no-one left.’

Before he could stop himself, Harvey’s mouth had already spoken for his brain. ‘If he needs a place to stay, my condo has a spare room. In any case, if he’s ready to talk, it’ll be a relaxed environment to take a statement from him.

 

Being anywhere but The Room was an alien experience.

The hospital was uncomfortably thorough in their inspection of him. They took blood tests, a rape kit (not that it would show anything; that had been what Palmer had kept Kelsey around for), checked every cut, scrape, bruise, and blemish for infection, and scanned his brain for damage when they found a bump from a bicycle accident he’d had when he was seven. The results of the tests were rushed through as fast as they could get them done, and when everything came out clean, he was sent to the desk to receive the bill and to be signed out.

His stomach churned at the charge for the stay. He knew that Grammy’s will would have taken care of him and given him something to inherit, but the cost of the tests, the scan, and the hospital bed would likely wipe everything out in one fell swoop. _God bless America, where a gun is easier to get than fairly-priced healthcare. Bastards_. He was alone, technically homeless, and as soon as this bill was paid off, he would be completely broke. For all of his captor’s torture of him, he had been grateful for one thing; Palmer’s personal library had not been off-limits to him, and during his time in The House, he had made his way through as many of the non-fiction and educational books as he could, soaking up the information like liquid into a dry sponge. If nothing else, at least he wasn’t completely uneducated. Maybe he could find a job as a researcher to make ends meet after this was all over. _If it ever is over…what if the partner comes for me?_

The lawyer who had come to see him in The Room came to pick him up from the front desk. He hadn’t been able to see his face properly in the light, apart from the brown eyes and the strong jawline, or garner anything other than the name “Harvey” from what he had overheard in the background chatter during the rescue. But now he could see him in full technicolour, his heart sharply picked up the pace; light brown hair with flecks of silver and golden blond highlights breaking through, and as he handed over a card and paid off the entire medical bill in one go, a devastatingly handsome smile that parted to make a flirtatious comment and sent the woman behind the counter into a peal of giggles as if she was a teenager. The smile softened down as he had looked down to him, and his stomach lurched in disappointment.

More pity. Just what he didn’t need.

Mike was rolled to the front doors, finally allowed to stand once he was outside, and he took a few steps before being guided carefully through one of the rear doors of a black car with darkened windows. As Harvey rounded the car to get in the other side, Mike instinctively checked the door to see whether he could open it himself, and it opened with ease.

No child-locks. Good to know.

The driver’s door opened, and Harvey seated himself with a small huff. ‘If you want to take a nap back there, feel free.’

Mike shook his head. ‘No, but thank you.’ He didn’t want to sleep; he wanted to know exactly where he was being taken to in case he had to run.

 

Donna was waiting at the condo when they arrived, holding a brown envelope in hand and holding her phone slightly away from her ear as whoever was on the other end continued grumbling.

Harvey took the envelope from her, gesturing to the phone. ‘Is that Rene?’

She nodded. ’Won’t shut up about your suit measurements and how you lost two pounds and it made the entire thing hang badly.’ She rolled her eyes, making the motion of an opening and closing mouth with her free hand. ‘He’ll be fine as long as I mumble a few things at random intervals.’

‘When he stops yelling, tell him that I need him to make a call here in a few days. Mr Ross will need a suit for in court.’

Donna eyed up the skinny form draped in Harvey’s jeans and shirt, the clothes hanging off his body in an almost clownish fashion, and nodded. ‘Luckily for you, I already bought some clothes in which he can relax in the meantime. Ralph Lauren bag on the couch. I bought medium, but if he needs another size, let me know.’

‘Thanks…can you make a pre-order for some food this evening? Nothing heavy, just chicken with rice and vegetables. Deliver for six o’clock.’

‘Already done, and you should get a delivery of groceries tomorrow, between ten and half-ten.’

‘Thanks Donna.’

She smiled. ‘You’re welcome. Now when do I get a pay raise?’

‘When you stop using my credit card to buy Prada.’

‘Spoilsport.’ With that retort, Donna waved and smiled, then disappeared down the hallway to the elevator and out of sight.

Harvey unlocked the door with the new key to check it worked properly, and beckoned his charge through the door. As Donna had stated, there was a Ralph Lauren bag full of clean clothes and underwear for Mike to change into, and—somehow in the right size—three new pairs of shoes ready for him to wear. The only thing out of place was the note next to the bag, intended for himself:

_I’m sooooooooo buying those Prada wedges for this, Specter. —D xxx_

He chuckled, chucking the note onto the coffee table and handing the bag and the key over to a stunned Mike. ‘Go try some of these on and see how they fit. If you want to take a shower or bath, or take a nap, or whatever, go for it. The guest room is the second door on the left.’

 

Stepping into the spare bedroom, Mike immediately did a double-take.

The walls were painted a pleasantly calming shade of blue that leaned just slightly towards lavender. The sheets on the bed were deep blue and white, and clearly were of the highest quality money could buy; as his hand brushed the cotton, he could almost feel himself being pulled into the bed by their softness. Off to one side of the room, an open door revealed a small en-suite with a full compliment of bathroom appliances; shower, bath with hot-tub jets, and a small TV set into the wall above it. It looked like the kind of bathroom seen in movies in a five-star hotel, and way beyond anything that he could have expected from a place to lay his head.

He swallowed, dropping the new bag of clothes onto the bed, and made his way back into the bathroom. The shower didn’t change temperature once while he washed himself down with the expensive shower gel, and the shampoo was pleasantly fragrant with a soothing perfume that lingered in the moist air around him. He spent longer than necessary under the hot stream, avoiding his stitched-up wounds as he proceeded to scrub every inch of himself down until he felt—at least on the outside—a little bit more human.

Stood in front of the mirror afterwards, his mind tried to piece together reasons a big-shot lawyer would let him into his home besides thinking he would get a free pass into Heaven when he died. He could only come to two conclusions, the first being that he was definitely just using him, and the second—and Mike argued the less likely—being that he didn’t believe the Heaven bullshit at all, and just wanted to help him.

A knock at the bedroom door made him jump. Mike grappled for the robe hanging next to him, and quickly threw it on before cracking the door open to reveal Harvey standing there.

He gestured down the hall. ‘Food just arrived. If you want some, or you want to order something else, just come through.’

 

Harvey almost didn’t expect anything to happen that first evening.

Scooping some of the chicken and vegetables onto his plate, he dug in with a spoon while skimming through his work emails. There were a few from Louis, one of which hadn’t been meant for him; an ode to the love he held for his cats addressed to a Dr. S. Lipschitz was not something he found to be particularly compelling literature. There was the bill from Donna, complete with a shot of the new shoes in their box on her lap as she dug into a glass of wine. And then just as he was reading one of the documents sent by Jessica regarding a meeting they were to have in a few days, he saw movement in the periphery of his vision.

Donna had clearly magically picked out all the right sizes. Mike stood next to the kitchen area, grey t-shirt and black jeans fitting his slim form perfectly, one hand playing with the fingers of the other while he looked at the food on the counter.

Harvey put the phone down and motioned towards the other side of the counter, and he watched on as Mike cautiously stepped forward. The actions were timid, but after a few moments he lifted himself onto the bar stool and hesitantly reached for a plate, eyes on Harvey’s the entire time.

Again, Harvey gestured to the open boxes, pushing them a little closer. It took a few moments for him to get started, but once Mike had a full plate, and had silently established that it was alright for him to be eating so much, he dug into the food like he’d been starved, making his way through a full plate and half of another before finally dropping his fork.

Mike groaned, head falling back. ‘Ugh…I think I ate too much.’

Harvey’s lip quirked. ‘You look like you needed it. Were you being starved?’

‘No. Just…we were on strict diets. No foods that could be considered “impure”. No candy, no snacks, little salt or sugar. Everything we ate was bland and tasteless and…mushy. We got enough to keep us alive, but little enough that we couldn’t fight back.’

‘Besides the obvious, what was he keeping you for?’

‘We were for his usage, mostly, but he also kept us around for the people he did deals with. If we didn’t just take the hit…we got restrained and hit harder.’ Mike swallowed, fist clenching and shaking, before it touched to the edge of his t-shirt.

Harvey stared on as Mike lifted the shirt up, stomach swirling with a sick feeling. He gazed from one stitched-up wound to the next, one of them going all the way from his ribs to his belly-button, and the bruises that were still blossoming across his abdomen, and it was all that he could do not to run out the door and seek out the scumbag. ‘Fuck.’

‘They liked knives, steel toe-cap boots, and to beat on people too weak to fight back.’ Mike’s face contorted. ‘We were all good for something. Kelsey was only seventeen, but she skipped a few years and started studying medicine early. If one of us looked like we were in trouble, Palmer would get her to fix us up. He had Karim working on preparing drugs for sale on the streets. Davis…before he was taken, he was music teacher in a rough part of Manhattan. Anything to do with music, or art, he knew it, and could just reel it off to you. Palmer liked entertainment, and Davis was a musical savant. It made sense to keep him.’

‘What about you?’

‘My memory. I know Marks are meant to have good memories, but mine is…’ Mike blinked around, before nodding to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. ‘You’ve got a copy of that book that’s a side story or something to that old British TV show Red Dwarf—‘

‘“Better Than Life”?’

‘Yeah. Get that book, and pick a random chapter.’

Harvey raised an eyebrow, but retrieved the book from the shelf and sat down, flicking to a random page and checking the number. ‘Okay…part two, chapter three.’

‘“Rimmer didn’t say anything for a rather long time, and then when he did say something, it wasn’t anything particularly scintillating or original. ‘A planet?’ he said. ‘Are you saying that’s a planet?’”’

Mike repeated half of the page back verbatim before he stopped him, stunned. ‘Jesus.’

‘It’s not just books. Documents, photos, movies, songs…if I hear it, watch it, look at it once…’ Mike snorted humourlessly, ‘I’m great at remember song lyrics.’

Harvey shot him a half-smile, putting the book down on the counter. Eidetic, photographic…whatever his memory was, it was extraordinary. And then the idea hit him. ‘Mike, did Palmer ever get you to memorise anything?’

 

He didn’t want to deal with this. Not now.

Mike sucked in a breath, his mind replaying the strings of numbers and letters over and over like a movie reel. The passcodes, and the bank details. The total in the account, and when specific increments had to be sent to Palmer’s partner. Having the details written had been too dangerous. Mike had been sat down each morning and evening, and had been given the instruction to memorise it all as it happened before being beaten to ensure he never told a soul.

He must have been silent for a while. He jolted back to reality to a hand waving near his face. ‘Mike? You were pretty distant there. You okay?’

‘Y-eah, just, kind of tired.’ _Snitches get stitches, Mikey. Think of the others._

Harvey gave him that soft smile again, and he was reminded once more of just how handsome he actually was. He had been attractive in the suit, but in a pair of jeans and a plain half-buttoned shirt over a t-shirt, he was strangely even more beguiling.

He suddenly cleared his throat, jolting him out of his musing. ‘Okay, no interrogations this evening. I’m going to watch a movie, so you’re free to join me if you want.’

Mike helped him clear away everything, putting the leftover food into a box in the fridge. He offered to do the dishes—he’d always been the one to clean up the Room when Palmer had been finished with them all—but Harvey waved it off, dumping them in the sink. ‘I’ll put them in the dishwasher later.’ He offered to let him pick the movie, but he declined politely, knowing he wouldn’t be able to pick anything interesting; he wouldn’t have been able to select anything that wasn’t made by Disney. Harvey selected something, low-octane but intriguing, mostly spending the time writing on his laptop while Mike concentrated on the plot.

When the credits rolled, Harvey looked up, document in one hand with the other still keying in something. ‘Enjoy it?’

He smiled. ‘I think I’ve read the book before.’

‘It was a book?’

‘Yeah. Stephen King. There were a lot of them in Palmer’s library.’

‘He read a lot?’

Mike chuckled, but frowned. ‘I don’t think I saw him pick up anything that wasn’t either a moth-eaten bible, or a book that later turned out to be some pornographic Victorian novel.’

Harvey’s blinked, lips curling into a strange smirk. ‘Hypocrisy at its finest. Although, to be fair, I’m not really any better; I was raised Jewish, but don’t care about eating bacon.’

‘Some don’t keep kosher.’

‘Yeah, but my dad would have had me doing yard work for a year if I’d even thought about smelling a bacon sandwich.’

‘Pretty strict, huh?’

Harvey swallowed. ‘Yeah, he was.’

Mike’s face fell. ‘…When?’

‘It was a few years ago. It’s still a little raw because I feel like I should have been there, but you can’t really predict a heart attack, can you?’

‘…I couldn’t prevent my parents’ car accident, and it’s not like I could stop myself getting taken either. I didn’t want to leave grammy, but they threatened her. When she said she’d call the police, they laughed because they had a couple of corrupt cops on their side.’ Mike shook his head. ‘There was nothing she could do to stop what happened to me, and there was nothing I could do…even if she’d have let them kill her, they’d have still got me. As much as you don’t want things to happen, sometimes they’re completely out of your control. Being there more often wouldn’t have stopped his heart from giving out.’

Silence fell between them, and then Harvey let out a little huff, running a hand through his hair and glancing away. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘Sharing. You know that’s…the first time I’ve actually talked about my dad to someone I barely know. I don’t even like to bring it up with Donna, or my brother. There’s always been this little part of me that thought if I’d made more time in my schedule, maybe he wouldn’t have…’ He sighed. ‘People say it’s not my fault, but I didn’t really believe it until you just said it. So, thank you.’

Trust didn’t happen overnight, but something in Mike unclenched a little. It was then that his eyes decided to droop, and it suddenly hit him just how long he had been going on little sleep. He’d averaged around four hours a night in the House near the end; someone had to be up early to prepare Palmer’s breakfast, and move his money.

Mike yawned, and stood. ‘If it’s okay, I think I need to go to bed.’

Harvey’s smirk returned, accompanied by a snort. ‘Mike, if you need to sleep, you don’t have to ask my permission. You have free rein to use the facilities of the condo, including the gym and the laundry room on the ground floor. If you feel unsafe at any time, building security have been instructed not to let anyone near you. Don’t be afraid to relax a little.’

Mike looked down. ‘No offence, but it’s been a while since someone who didn’t have a Mark was nice to me for any other reason than to get a supposed free pass to Heaven. I’m just—‘

‘Not there yet?’

‘Nowhere near. But…thank you.’

Harvey nodded. ’You’re welcome. Sleep well.’

As he walked back to the guest bedroom, Mike was completely oblivious to Harvey’s eyes following him the entire way.

 

He had a problem.

Harvey had never been a man to deny himself, although he always respected comfortable boundaries with potential bedmates; he had never harassed or coerced someone to get his way or to get someone he liked into the bedroom.

But there was something about Mike, something about his natural intelligence and the budding back-and-forth, that pulled at him to get closer. There had been moments in their conversations where simply watching his lips move as he spoke had made Harvey want to test Mike to see if he would be receptive to an advance. And then he had remembered he was charged with Mike’s protection until this case was over, and he had reined in the thought. Whether he would be able to protect him afterwards, or if he would even want protection was still unknown, but he could at least have some restraint while the case was going on.

Harvey sighed, distracting himself by skimming through some of the dirt that his associate had found on Palmer. Between the known money-laundering instances with proceeds going to crime circles, and the kidnapping and enslavement of multiple human beings, the dirtbag was going to go straight to prison in any case. Even so, Harvey couldn’t help but think about what he had asked Mike. From his reaction, he knew Palmer had gotten him to memorise things, most likely bank account details and transactions, but he wasn’t going to say anything because he either didn’t trust him, or he was scared of what would happen to him otherwise.

_But why would he be scared if Palmer was in custody? Unless…_

He sat bolt upright. They were missing someone. Someone who was a threat to Mike.

Going back to the document he’d been working on, he made the text bold and added a note at the bottom: _Who is Palmer working with?_

 

It was almost two weeks before Mike seemed to grow comfortable in the condo to stop looking for his permission to do things.

Harvey had noticed it on the first day; after returning from the office, he had gone to the fridge to check what Mike had eaten only to find the food left for him untouched. It had only been when Harvey had specifically cooked something for him that he had eaten. When he wanted to read something, he stared at the bookshelf or the iPad, waiting for Harvey to nod. It had taken nearly two weeks, but he had finally started doing the little things without permission.

So when Harvey returned home on day fourteen, he hadn’t expected to open the door to the smell of chocolate cake. He chucked his coat over the back of one of the stools at the counter, staring at the plate full of double chocolate cupcakes with a half-smile. ‘Mike?’

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor, and Mike poked his head around the wall leading from the guest room. ‘Hi.’

‘Did you make these?’

‘Uh, yeah. It was an old recipe of my grammy’s. Hope you don’t mind, I had the ingredients delivered.’

Harvey plucked one of the neatly-iced cakes off the plate, peeling away the paper cup and taking a bite. The flavour, rich and sweet and slightly bitter, filled his mouth, and he struggled to hold back a moan as his eyes rolled back into his head. When he’d swallowed the mouthful, he licked his lips. ‘These are amazing.’

‘They’re kind of a thank-you, for giving me somewhere to go.’ Mike moved out from around the corner to sit down at the counter. ‘I know I must have been irritating the last few weeks, but I’m so used to asking permission to do anything, it’s hard to break the habit. I’m sorry.’

Harvey put the other half of the cake down, putting a hand on Mike’s forearm. ‘You don’t have to apologise. You’re adjusting.’

‘Still—‘

‘Mike, the only thing I ask is that you help us to prosecute Palmer and whoever he’s working with. And maybe to make more of these cupcakes in future, because they’re about a hundred times better than the stale Pop-Tarts on top of my fridge.’

At that, Mike smiled. ‘Deal.’

That evening, as Mike relaxed reading, Harvey went through the research he’d done that day. His associate had given him everything she could find, but he’d taken it upon himself to do some of his own, and in his own way. It had been a long time since he’d called up Vanessa for her services, but she had been quick to get on the case from the little information that he had been able to give her, already messaging him information as and when she obtained it. Palmer was making calls to someone at every chance he got, cryptically worded. He understood a few of the intended meanings; “Smudge” to describe a Mark wasn’t particularly inventive. The rest of the recording was hit and miss, and he was going to have to get someone else to take a listen, but the other voice in the call was eerily familiar, like he’d heard it somewhere before.

There had to be something that would get Mike to open up about Palmer’s partner.

 

He knew he couldn’t keep up the silence about the Partner forever.

Mike tried to concentrate on the words in the book in front of him, but he just kept thinking and thinking non-stop. As if to remind him, the patch of skin with his mark itched. _Don’t tell a soul, Mikey, or you’re going to be responsible for a lot of deaths._ The Warehouse had been almost full when he’d been plucked from it by Palmer and taken to the House, and he’d wondered over and over just how many people like him had passed through the Room by the time he’d arrived.

He let his gaze wander from the book to Harvey, back turned to him, working away on his laptop at the counter. His eyes started at the back of his head, but then flicked down slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae, until he bit his lip and turned away when they reached the top of Harvey’s clothed buttocks. It was pointless trying to deny that men weren’t outside his scope of interest, but he hadn’t felt as drawn to any man as much as Harvey, even if he still wasn’t sure he could trust him yet.

Still, as he watched Harvey flex and stretch as he yawned, Mike could feel himself growing hot under the collar. Suddenly he could imagine those buttocks moving, clenching as hips thrusted forward into a willing body and Harvey moaning his name. His imagination went wildly vivid, and suddenly threw him the image of Harvey clambering atop him on the couch, sliding down to meet his thrusts.

The heat that had been under his collar had rapidly shifted down to his body. He stood from the chair, walking towards the guest room and waving to Harvey as he went. ‘I’m heading to bed.’

Harvey looked surprised, but shook it off and smiled. ‘Sleep well. Donna’s bringing Rene for your second suit fitting tomorrow.’

The second Mike was behind the bedroom door, he walked immediately in the en-suite and locked the door behind him. He let his head fall back against it, biting his lip as those muscles moving under fabric replayed behind his eyelids and sent another hot wave straight down to his groin. Letting out a shuddering sigh, he ran his hand down the length of his torso, shaky fingers slipping under his clothes and underwear. He hadn’t done this often in the house, either having no alone time or being in too much pain to even think about it. Only his own hand and the other Marks had ever touched him here, during a brief experimentation one night when the electricity had shut off the security system and the internal CCTV. It had been a short-lived experience; Davis and Kelsey had been wrapped up in each other, savouring the forbidden moment as she had clambered over him amid inexperienced kisses. Mike had joined Davis and Karim in kissing her, until Karim had begun kissing him, down his body until lips had wrapped around him. His first sexual experience was out of desperation, a want of affection and closeness, and for that fifteen minutes in the darkness they had found it with each other.

As he grasped around his length and slid his fingers up, he remembered the choking feel of that orgasm, stars flashing before his eyes, and his mind suddenly replaced the memory of Karim on his knees with Harvey smiling up at him, licking and fondling his erection enthusiastically. Mike moaned low, lifting his hips into his hand over and over, until he bit back a gasp and came.

Clearing away the evidence, Mike swallowed back the feeling that he was falling too deep down the rabbit-hole.

 

It was almost eleven PM, and the office was a ghost town.

Donna groaned as she skimmed through the papers. ‘This is taking forever.’

Harvey chucked another file in her direction, flicking through another one in his hand. Mike had been out of the House and living with him for almost two months, and somehow he still couldn’t find one shred of evidence as to who Palmer had been talking to. ‘I know, and I know you need your beauty sleep, but we need to find out if there’s someone in this case that I recognise. I know I’ve heard the voice somewhere.’

‘I never need beauty sleep, Specter, but it would be nice to actually get some once in a while. What about if I just reel off names to you and see if you remember?’

‘Tried it, no dice.’

‘Really? Travis Tanner?’

‘He’s an asshole, but he dealt with one of these kinds of cases last month, so probably not. Anyway, his voice is completely different.’

‘Cameron Dennis.’

‘First person I thought of. His kid has a Mark and that little boy is his world.’

‘Hardman?’

‘The voice I heard was deeper. This isn’t going to work.’ He threw the file onto the coffee table between them, grumbling to the ceiling. ‘I need Mike to talk. A tiny clue, like hair colour, or eye colour, or anything Vanessa can use to seek the partner out.’

Donna leaned forward, reaching for the bottle of scotch Harvey had taken a few glasses from and pouring one for herself. ’You know that isn’t going to happen. Even for you.’

Harvey sat back up, frowning. ‘What do you mean, even for me?’

Donna rolled her eyes, knocking back a swig of Macallan before reaching and filling up his glass. ‘Come on…I can tell you like him. You can’t stand all this sensitivity bullshit.’

‘My niece has a Mark too, Donna.’

‘Yeah, and you still treat her like she’s the most badass little girl out there. I mean, she is, but still. You’re not half as sensitive with her as you have been with Mike.’

‘I have not been that sensitive with him.’

‘Paid his hospital bills, bought him a suit from Rene for court, and you’re housing him in your spare room. I haven’t even seen your spare room, and I’ve known you for most of my life.’

‘Because the last time you saw a room other than my living room, kitchen, or bathroom, I was scrubbing sangria vomit out of my bedroom carpet.’

Donna half-grinned, taking another gulp of scotch. ‘Good old Hurlnukkah.’

‘I’m just relieved you didn’t set yourself on fire with the menorah.’

‘So…what are you going to do about your little crush on your charge?’

Harvey sighed, shaking his head. ‘Nothing. I’m his lawyer.’

‘You don’t have to be. Rachel, Louis, Katrina. All very capable lawyers.’

‘But they’re not me.’

Donna sighed, draining the glass and picking up another file. ‘Your call. But at least think about it. Mike needs someone right now. You could be that someone.’

When they finally gave up for the night, and Harvey had ushered a wobbly Donna into a cab with her discarded heels, he chose to walk home. He’d lost count after the third scotch, but he knew that he was pretty tipsy, and the walk would help to sober him up somewhat while he processed what he had admitted. Her suggestion was decent; Louis had dealt with a few Mark cases pro-bono, Rachel Zane was specialising with dealing with cases involving violent or sexual assault and could be suitably sensitive to a kidnapping and abuse victim, and while Katrina was possibly just a little too clinical to deal with Mike on an emotional level, he couldn’t deny that she would be so gracefully brutal against Palmer in the courtroom that his testicles would reascend at the mere sound of her voice.

But then the other half of his brain nagged another pressing matter that stopped the idea completely. Mike had spent the last fourteen years of his life being beaten, and holding a secret. What if he wasn’t interested, but thought that was what Harvey was keeping him around for? What if any advance that he made was reciprocated, but out of fear of consequence rather than true consent?

He groaned, wobbling around the corner of the block and closer to home. He had no idea what to do, but he knew that he couldn’t make the decision on the best part of a bottle of Macallan.

When he got through the front door, Harvey kicked off his shoes and chucked his coat over them to deal with in the morning. He drifted into the kitchen to the sink, filling up a glass and drinking it all in one go before filling it up again and throwing two dissolvable vitamins into it. Letting them fizz away, he set about fixing himself something to eat. Mike had already eaten, as evidenced by the leftovers he discovered in the fridge; there was a baked potato skin almost the size of one of his cereal bowls stuffed with herbs, cheese and onions on a plate with a note:

_I didn’t know what you wanted for dinner, but there was one really HUGE potato in the groceries. Okay, maybe there were two and I ate one-and-a-half…but I left you half of the biggest one!_

He snorted and spluttered. Mike’s apparently dorky (and Harvey would argue adorable) sense of humour was coming out, and boy didn’t that make his stupid feelings conflict with duty even more. With the food reheated, Harvey sat down and ate, sipping at the vitamin-infused water as he mentally scanned over the names of everyone he could think of that might match up to the voice in Vanessa’s recording. It still didn’t match anyone, even though she had sent another one even clearer than the first; she’d run it past a mutual friend Lola, who had cleaned up the calls as much as she could with whatever fancy audio forensics software she had been able to get her hands on. The man’s voice was as clear as a bell, and yet his brain still couldn’t match it to any face. And if Mike still didn’t trust him implicitly, there was no way that he would open up about what he was hiding, not if leading Harvey to the partner could put a bullseye on his back.

If he was to truly earn Mike’s trust, even a little bit, he had to know that there were no ulterior motives to his actions. And that meant, as much as he didn’t want to, he would need to pass on Mike’s case to someone else, and tell him exactly how he felt regardless of the consequence.

Opening his emails, he typed in Jessica’s address, and began to confess.

 

When Mike went through to the kitchen the next morning, Harvey was already up, sat at the counter in the same suit he had been in the previous morning, sipping at a mug of fresh coffee. He glanced up when he realised he was being watched, smile appearing on that handsome face. ‘Morning.’

‘Morning. You find the food?’

He nodded. ‘Delicious. Thanks.’

Mike shifted past the counter, grabbing a mug and filling it up with coffee for himself. ‘Late night?’

‘Mm. Donna was helping me look through the files on the case over a few scotches so…I may be a little hungover right now.’

A sting of jealousy reverberated through his stomach. ‘Ouch.’

‘Yeah. But, there’s also something I need to talk about—‘ Harvey’s sentence was cut off by an obnoxious ringtone, making both of them jump.

Mike nodded to the phone. ‘Answer. I can wait.’

While Harvey took the call, Mike wandered back to his room to get dressed. About halfway through washing his face over the sink, the thought that he had mentally referred to Harvey’s guest room as his room caused him to pause mid-motion. Was he getting too comfortable in a place that he shouldn’t? It wasn’t as if Harvey had made any kind of indication that he would be staying once the case was over, even though he had no idea of when that might come. Maybe Mike was getting in the way of his life, and he just wanted to get the whole thing over with to go back to whatever he normally did with Donna.

He argued with himself that he had no right to be jealous of their obvious bond. He was still suspicious of him—who wouldn’t be suspicious of the generosity he had shown a complete stranger?—but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel something for someone attractive, or want to kiss someone who made his heart beat faster, or lean into the glimmer of kindness offered. And Harvey had been kinder than most of the people he had ever met.

He skimmed over the mental records of all those transactions, and the face attached to the crime. He knew the name. He knew the eyes, the lips, the nose, the hair, every little freckle and age mark embedded in that skin. In front of a line-up, he could pick them out in an instant, and if he told Harvey, maybe they could find the Warehouse before it was too late. They might be able to save all the Marks being stored there, and even some of the ones that had been bought or passed on to others; he knew there was records kept. He could help bust an entire Mark-trafficking ring. _But then if we’re too late, I could be killing thousands of people_.

Hands shaking, he dressed before walking back into the kitchen. Harvey was packing up the documents that had been strewn around him, closing the laptop and putting it into a bag. ‘I’ve got to go back into the office. I’d ask you to come along, but I’ve got to go from there later to assist one of the associates in their first real trial. You okay by yourself?’

‘I’ve been fine. Tell the associate good luck.’

Harvey huffed, smiling. ‘She doesn’t need luck. She just needs to remember that all the knowledge is right there in her head and she knows exactly what she’s doing.’ As he made to leave, he paused in the doorway. ‘We’ll finish the discussion a little later. I just…really need to talk to you about something.’

As the door closed behind him, Mike couldn’t keep his heart from racing.

 

It was rare that he bothered to take full advantage of the showers in the bathrooms at the office, but today it was a necessity.

There were two cubicles in each bathroom on each floor, both screened off with waterproofed Japanese-style screens on the inside and supplying high-quality washing and styling products and appliances to be ready for any client meeting at the drop of a hat.

Still half-hungover, Harvey knew he needed a shower before this trial; he could still smell the scotch on himself, so god knows what he smelled like to everyone else.

He scraped his nails through the lather of shampoo, scrubbing his scalp with something that smelled vaguely like eucalyptus like it could literally pull the last of the Macallan out of him. ‘You got the tie cleaned too, right?’

‘You’re actually asking me that question?’ Donna’s heels clicked across the tile, before the sound of plastic wrap sounded. ‘I went for the one with the waistcoat you like.’

‘The gunmetal pinstripe?’

‘Yes, the one that sucks in your love-handles.’

‘Not love-handles.’

‘You keep telling yourself that.’ Her heels sounded again, and he listened to her leave before applying conditioner and scrubbing his body down with the mint-scented foam that came out of one of the bottles in the stall. It smelled good, seemingly easing some of the fog of the residual alcohol. When he was dried, dressed, and had half of the vanilla-laced coffee Donna had left him down his throat (along with two painkillers and a vitamin supplement), he was ready to go.

Somehow he made it down to the court just in time to walk up with the nervous associate, giving her a firm pat on the shoulder and a nod as they walked next to each other into the courtroom. She reminded him a little of Mike; the way her knowledge of the law blossomed in front of the council was so similar to how Mike’s sense of humour had begun rearing its head when he had started becoming comfortable. He found himself smiling to himself behind his hand as he watched her work, cutting down the opposition with the evidence and a sharp tongue, and when her client came out victorious, Harvey felt a pull to go straight back to the condo to share the news that his protégée was a badass with Mike.

But before he could get out of the building, a voice that struck a wrong note stopped him dead.

Turning, he skimmed the faces of the people moving through the corridor, and just as he wondered whether he had missed them, a face stepped out from behind one of the statues decorating the halls.

Pale blond hair, hard-edged blue eyes, and a sharp charcoal suit that only made him seem even more soulless than when they had last met.

Sean Cahill really hadn’t changed all that much.

As if just the thought of him was enough to summon him, Cahill walked up, looking as smug as ever. ‘Harvey Specter. I always wondered when you’d start preparing for retirement.’

‘No chance in hell, just training up someone to defend people against your dirty dealings. Your last client got pulled back in the courtroom for supposedly misfiled evidence that proof that they were guilty as sin, didn’t they?’ Harvey shot back.

Cahill’s slimy smirk stiffened. ‘We can’t all be white knights, Harvey.’

‘Not all of us try and fail to hide evidence to convict a murderer.’

‘I’m sure they didn’t mean to kill that woman.’

‘The victim was a man.’

‘Not according to her birth certificate.’

His fist clenched. _Prick_. ‘Did you have a reason for coming up to me?’

Cahill smirked. ‘I heard you’re representing another Mark case. You’re even housing the guy in your spare room. Great opportunity for a post-court conquest, right? You never were a bleeding heart, and yet now every other case you take on has some person with a wing marring their body. I knew you had to be getting something out of it.’

He knew.

‘I’ll be seeing you soon, Harvey.’ Cahill shot him one final smirk before walking away. As soon as he was out of sight, Harvey charged towards the nearest exit. He had to get back to the condo now.

 

Almost immediately upon staying with Harvey, Mike had begun reading every single physical book that he owned.

It had started with the few fiction books lying around—‘Better Than Life’ had been one of only fifteen that he’d found on that bookshelf—and culminated in him devouring every single non-fiction one; reference books, law books, a few language books that Mike wondered whether Harvey was fluent in.

By the end of the second week, when he’d run out of physical books and devoured the ones that Harvey had on the iPad, Harvey had pushed a credit card towards him over the top of the breakfast counter. ‘You’re allowed to buy more. Just set up your own account and sign in. Then buy whichever ones you want with this.’ As much as he had protested against using his money, Harvey had insisted, and a stack of books arrived the next morning. Now, coming up to week one of month three staying at the condo, his book collection, physical and digital, was gradually expanding into a small library and threatening to invade the space outside of the guest room door.

It was part of the way through an ebook on growing herbs for home remedies that a shiver went down his spine. His concentration kept fluctuating, pulled away by the reminder of Harvey’s words before he had left that morning. Groaning, he put the tablet down and palmed his eyes, the beginnings of a headache forming. He almost didn’t want him to come home yet, because that would mean having that conversation, and he was almost certain what Harvey was going to say to him. He was bound to outstay his welcome sometime, although he had begun to hope that it wouldn’t be quite so soon.

The door buzzed.

Harvey had a key. Donna had a key. Anyone important had a way to get in without having to hit the button. Mike shot up, eyes fixed on the door. Who the hell was that?

The buzzing stopped, replaced by the sound of a fist smashing against the wood. ‘I know you’re in there, Mikey. I just want to check you haven’t spilled. Let me in, and we can talk about this.’

His breakfast was already threatening to come back up. Cahill.

Running wasn’t an option. He had eyes in the sky and on the street, retrieving and relaying back to him everything he needed to know; if there was a Mark he didn’t have documented, he’d find them eventually.

The banging continued. Hands shaking, Mike put the tablet down on the coffee table and made for his room, closing the door as silently as he could behind him. He locked it, pushing the heavy dresser and the bed against it, before ducking into the bathroom and locking that door too, right as the sound of Harvey’s front door breaking echoed through the walls.

Heart pounding, he reached for the door to underneath the sink, inputting the code to the small safe and pulling out the thing that Harvey had told him to only use if he absolutely had to. The gun felt heavier than it had initially appeared, almost terrifying in its complexity and exterior simplicity; how could something so small take someone’s life so easily?

A thought ran through his head unbidden, bringing with it a chilling peacefulness. _Cahill can’t hurt me if I’m already dead_.

 

Harvey ran most of the way, too scared to stop and check his phone or see if there was a faster way. It wasn’t far, but in the haze of adrenaline and terror, every step felt like it took an age, every metre a mile.

When he finally reached the building, he charged through the doors, and met with red everywhere. The security guards and the concierge had been shot dead, and a set of footprints led through the blood across the lobby to the elevator. Just one set; Cahill had come alone. Harvey crouched and pried the handgun out of the still-warm hand of one of the guards, and bolted for the elevator doors.

As soon as he reached his floor, he flicked the safety off, charging across the hallway and around to his front door. The wood had splintered around the lock and the hinges, still hanging on but swinging freely open and letting him hear the sounds of something slamming on wood behind it.

‘—out Mikey…you were always my favourite. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure you haven’t told him anything. You remember the others, don’t you?’

_Others?_ Harvey sucked in a breath, and slipped around the door.

He felt like everything was going in slow motion as he rounded the wall. The taunting voice grew louder until it was right there behind him. ‘One call, Mikey. One call and every one of them will be dead. Well…maybe not immediately. The boys at the Warehouse do like to have their fun. Your little friend before Palmer bought you out of your cage? She’s still there…I’m sure she’ll look like a nice tasty treat to the boys after a long, hard day of work. You wouldn’t want anything like that to happen to her, would you?’

A warehouse. A warehouse full of Marks, to be bought by whoever had the money. Harvey felt sick to his stomach, and his grip on the gun tightened.

One way or another, this ended today.

 

Even with the bedroom between them, the bathroom door still rattled at every bang of Cahill’s fist on the bedroom door, reverberating around him like an echo chamber.

He couldn’t stop the tears coming, slipping down his face in silent streams as he alternated between looking at the pistol in his hand and the back of the bathroom door. One shot. One round would be all it would take to stop it. He was a Mark. He was always going to be hunted for that wing on his collarbone, in danger, in the spotlights for everyone who believed the lies to see. He’d have to stay inside for the rest of his life, behind the fickle protection of locked doors and thin walls; a modern-day hermit in an urban cave.

His head rolled back against the sink counter, blinking at the lights on the ceiling. He’d noticed the cohesive theme of Harvey’s condo the second he’d stepped foot in it; all clean and professional, almost lacking personality until he’d looked closer and seen the touches. There was a collection of signed baseballs with a glove in a cabinet in one corner of the room, lines of colour-changing lights running along the top of the inside that tinted the room with a pleasant glow. There was the bookcase and the record player, and the art pieces that were less classical and more childlike; a paint-daubed sketch of a few flowers, and one with ‘Uncle Harvey’ written with a wobbly ‘a’ in ‘Harvey’ done by his niece took pride of place on the wall by the TV. The guest bathroom was exactly the same, Harvey woven into the little things, just like he’d woven himself into Mike’s existence the day he’d brought him back to the condo. _Harvey_.

The banging sounds stopped.

Muffled yells.

And then gunshots.

Then nothing.

Mike’s head spun, fingers of his free hand clawing at the bathroom floor. _Harvey? Please…I need you. Please say something…anything. I need you. I love—_

The banging on the door resumed. But then—

‘Mike? Mike?! ’ _Harvey_.

Mike almost sobbed, gun slipping from his fingers to the floor as he slid the lock across. He shoved the furniture aside, flinging the door open, and Harvey flew forward and almost tackled him to the wall on the other side of the room.

Mike let him fuss, checking his face and neck and palming his body for any signs of harm before sighing in relief and pressing their foreheads together. ‘I didn’t think I could make it to you before—I ran here—if he’d hurt you—’

‘He didn’t.’ He cupped Harvey’s face in his hands and just stood there with him for a while, ignoring the groans of Cahill in the hall behind them and smoothing his thumbs across Harvey’s cheeks, smearing away tears that he wasn’t sure the man knew he was shedding. His heart began beating faster for an entirely different reason. Harvey had panicked. He had been so scared for his safety, terrified that he would be taken, that he had run through the streets of Manhattan to get to him.

The fears that Harvey had ill motives for keeping him around began to dissipate, and whether it was the adrenaline, or his emotional self-restraint giving up the ghost, Mike took the chance and surged forward.

As Harvey’s lips met his halfway in their second kiss, he knew either way that he’d made the right choice.

 

The months following what had come to be known by both of them as ‘That Day’, a lot of things began to change for the better.

Having only been incapacitated by Harvey, a disbarred Cahill lived to see justice served, albeit missing a few fingers from one hand and sporting a new scar on his shoulder. The days that he and Palmer received their sentence, every single Mark who had been kept and abused in the Warehouse had been either in the courtroom, or outside of the court, listening in as they were put away for life. No parole, no good-behaviour get-out. It wasn’t going to be the last Mark case by a long shot, but it was one more down, and everyone agreed that it was one more big step to new legislation protecting Marks from people like them.

Following the kiss, and the one that he had given back to confirm to Mike that the feelings were mutual and very much reciprocated, Harvey had reluctantly passed on his case to someone else. He had been completely right about Katrina; dressed sharp in a pale grey dress and matching heels, blonde hair sleekly tied back in a neat bun, anyone would have mistaken her for a youthful, inexperienced associate barely out of her first case. Instead, he and Mike watched on from their place in the room as she tore their pitiful defence to shreds. Soon after, there were cases racking up from all across the country, with wealthy parents of Marks appearing all over the place looking for representation for their own cases, and Harvey could already see that the firm would need to expand to cope with them all.

Everything in his life was falling right into place.

 

And Mike’s life was just beginning again.

The first time walking outside of the condo building to go somewhere other than Harvey’s office or to court, he had been anxious, almost agoraphobic as people passed him as speed on the busy streets of a normal Manhattan day. The idea that someone could grab his arm and drag him away back to the Warehouse was still strong, and it took several outings accompanied by Harvey, and a few by Donna and Rachel (who he had quickly learned were in a happy, committed relationship with each other and were no danger to his relationship with Harvey) before he was comfortable venturing out on his own for the first time.

When he had finally been able to take that step, the first place he had gone to was to a bookshop a few blocks away. A chill had run through him as he’d headed near to the back of it, searching for a quick way to the exit if he needed to run, but as one of the shop assistants had asked if he wanted any help picking something, he caught a flash of something; a Mark, half-covered by their collar and partly-disguised with a layer of flaking foundation. The assistant had frozen, hand going to their neck to cover it, but Mike had quickly pulled his t-shirt to the side to reveal his own, and all was well.

It was only as he had gone to pay that he realised that everyone in the shop had one. The woman serving at the counter had one on her arm, barely visible underneath the winding ink of her tattoos, but the raised shape of the skin was unmistakeable. Another assistant who had been stacking the shelves had a very visible one on the back of her hand, as pale as a patch of vitiligo and startling white against her warm umber skin. He had left the shop that day with four books, another six on order, and a place to go every Tuesday to take a writing workshop with people who understood his fears.

It was also the first time since the rescue, he had finally been able to visit the cemetery where his grandmother had been buried. It had been painful to see her name written there, knowing that she died thinking that he was gone forever. He spent a good few hours just talking to the headstone, telling her about the budding relationship with Harvey, and what he was looking forward to, and how much he wanted to make her proud. And when he was done and had met Harvey at the gates, he could have sworn that he’d seen her on a bench a little way from the gates, that kind smile and cheeky raised eyebrow she’d always had when she’d known he’d had a crush on someone. If she really had been there, she knew he was going to be fine.

It had been after this outing that his relationship with Harvey had finally taken another step. When they had returned from the cemetery, he had led Harvey into the bedroom and stripped them both down, touching and rubbing and grinding franticly together until they had both found the release they had been looking for.

There was just one thing that he still wanted to do, and he hadn’t quite been able to get there yet. Despite their relationship becoming physical and very active, whenever he and Harvey had tried to go further than the mutual external stimulation area of things, he had frozen and panicked, and Harvey had needed to stop. He was so understanding and patient, but it made Mike wonder exactly how long it would be before he got sick of waiting and moved on to someone else.

After his writing session one evening while Harvey finished up some work, Mike threw himself back on the couch and grabbed his iPad, angling the screen so he could peruse the sex manual he had downloaded without Harvey seeing. It turned out to be a dud; the book was practically a gay contortionist’s Kama Sutra, with most of the positions being nigh on impossible for even the most flexible and athletic of men to try, and there was almost nothing about how to navigate a first penetrative sex experience beyond a few half-assed lines about lubricant and condoms.

Lips pressed to the side of his neck. ‘Even if you never want to do it that way, that doesn’t mean I want you any less. Also I’m not sure that we could do it that way without one of us breaking a hip. Or our spines…is getting your back in that shape even physically possible?’

Flushing furiously, Mike leaned into the contact, turning his head to kiss him back. ‘I just don’t want to disappoint you. I was trying to find stuff on how to relax so we could do it.’

‘You could never disappoint me, Mike.’ Another kiss. ‘You’re already more than I could ask for.’

‘Except with someone else, you could get further than putting on a condom before they freak out.’

‘Come on…I think we’re acquainted enough with each other by now to forget them.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Do you know how often sex of any kind can suck before you get it right? Do you know how scary it is to do that for the first time? Stop putting so much pressure on yourself. The first time I blew a guy, I almost got my tongue piercing forced down my throat.’

His head shot up. ‘You had a tongue piercing?’

It was Harvey’s turn to blush. ‘I…was twenty-two and experimental, and my roommate put it in for me. FYI, I also had both my nipples pierced.’

The thought of Harvey, no shirt and with thin strips of metal running through his nipples, and letting Mike run his tongue over them was absurdly titillating. He swallowed thickly. ‘Are your piercing holes still there?’

‘No, they closed up a long time ago,’ Harvey grinned, licking a line up to his ear before whispering, ‘but I’ll get them re-pierced tomorrow if you like.’

Mike put the tablet down, turning and pecking Harvey’s lips. ‘Not necessary. Do you think…I kind of want to try again. Do you want—‘

A hand extended down towards him in silent invitation.

‘Harvey’s’ bedroom had almost immediately become ‘their’ bedroom after That Day. Mike had spent the night in there, cradled in his arms through nightmares, and it had been the only place they had slept since. It hadn’t taken long for all of Mike’s belongings (save for the stacks of books) to migrate after him. Clothes went into drawers and the walk-in wardrobe, and the toothbrush went into the cup next to his in the en-suite. Mike’s shoes were kicked off in the same spot by the door, haphazard and messy next to Harvey’s neatly-arranged ones. It had taken minutes to move everything, done so without a second thought, and once everything was in place, Harvey had confessed over a couple of scotches that he could no longer imagine how empty it had been before Mike had filled the void.

Mouths connected most of the way, Mike gasped when his legs touched the end of the bed. He fell back onto it, pulling his clothes away as he watched Harvey remove his own. He’d seen Harvey do this several times, stripping down to nakedness in the warm low light, but every single time, it still sent a little thrill of fear and anticipation through him. His arms were strong enough to hold him down all the times he had bucked mid-orgasm. His torso was toned, permanently warmer than him and pleasantly weighty against his own every time Harvey lay atop him.

And between his legs, that thick, stiff cock jutting away from his abdomen at an angle beckoned and made his mouth water.

It had been in a brief moment of total confidence during a shower that he had gone down on Harvey for the first time. Emboldened by their recent shared masturbation fun, Mike had pressed Harvey to the cold tile wall, and almost choked himself on his length when he’d tried to take it all in at once. He’d quickly learned that it didn’t need to go deep down his throat or make him gag for it to be good, though; the man had almost collapsed to his knees when he had flicked his tongue into the slit and run it over the reddened tip. It hadn’t taken long for Harvey to come after that, shooting across his tongue and lips and then staring through half-lidded eyes as Mike had licked up and swallowed everything. Harvey had returned the favour later that night, turning that fantasy he’d had in the guest bathroom into reality, and making it abundantly clear that he could have that whenever he wanted.

Mike leaned up, preparing to take it into his mouth, but Harvey stopped him with a finger to the lips. ‘Don’t worry about me. This is about you.’

 

Neither of them had planned the first time they tried to have sex in that way, but Harvey had made sure they had been prepared regardless.

It had been one night after being in court for most of the day. They had both been tired, sick of giving evidence and taking the stand, but it hadn’t stayed that way for long. Before long, they had been naked and writhing in bed together, gasping and moaning each other’s names incoherently as they had touched and ground up against each other. The nervous look in Mike’s eyes when Harvey had nudged his entrance with a finger, and the tiny nod he received in response was burned into his memory. He’d wondered several times whether he had been wrong about what things had happened to Mike in The House and The Warehouse, but Mike reassured him that it was just nerves. ‘You’re not exactly small, and I’m a virgin. I’m scared it’ll tear me in half.’

It had taken a few minutes, but he’d seemed receptive; with slicked fingers, Harvey had made to prepare him, applying pressure to his entrance and massaging the area around it, but barely the tip of his middle finger had been submerged when Mike had pulled away, apologising over and over for stopping. The same thing had happened every time they had tried since.

This time though, it felt like Mike was truly ready. Some of his initial timidness was gone, and he keened into the touches, only tensing as Harvey breached him with his fingers for the first time. It didn’t hold for long, though; he’d flicked and circled and rubbed until finally he’d found the spot he was looking for, and suddenly Mike was thrusting back on his fingers, searching for more and grasping for the sheets with his fists as he dangled at the edge of orgasm. ‘Harvey—‘

‘Feel good?’

‘Fuck…fuck…oh god please please please make me come—‘ And it was that moment that Harvey pulled out his fingers.

He bit back a laugh at Mike’s indignant expression; sweat trickled down his furrowed brow, eyes fixed on him with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. If it wasn’t for the desperation for Harvey to be inside of him, the death-glare was probably half-sincere. Pouring more lubricant into his hand, Harvey ran it up and down his own neglected length, resisting the urge to just jack himself to a quick finish; without even touching it, he had been hard in anticipation since he’d taken his clothes off, and the feel of his own hand was more than just a little welcoming. For the first time since he was nineteen, he was going to have to recite the names of baseball players in his head to keep himself from coming too quick. ‘Mm…Mike—ah—let me know if you want to stop, okay?’

 

For all the times that Mike had tried and failed to make it to that point, reaching it at long last felt like the sweetest victory.

He let Harvey inside easily this time, wincing at the additional stretch his fingers hadn’t been able to account and prepare for. The ache was small though, and was swiftly replaced with delectable heat, a pleasant burning setting him ablaze from the inside out. Every thrust stroked his prostate with ease and stoked the fire in his belly, finding pleasure points he had never known existed, and he jerked back into the motion with as much vigour as he could while kissing and fondling and grappling at Harvey’s buttocks to try to get him even deeper inside. He was in love with everything; the satisfied grunts Harvey made each time he bottomed out; the roughness of each thrust as hips slapped against his buttocks; the contradicting gentle way Harvey would brush his sweat-soaked hair away from his face and brought their mouths together again and again.

Whimpering and gasping and laughing, he could feel himself falling deeper under the spell. _Is it too soon to say ‘I love you’?_

Harvey’s eyelids fluttered. ‘God, you’re feel fucking incredible.’

‘Harvey—nn—ah I wish I’d let you do thi—nn—this before!’

‘Nngh—ah fuck—‘

‘Almost—I’m almost ther—THERE!’ And that was it. Mike’s eyes rolled back in his head, an indecent howl spilling out of his throat as he came in messy splatters between their stomachs. He expected Harvey to follow suit, his thrusts already becoming erratic and unrestrained.

Instead, Harvey pulled out until only his tip was still inside of him, hands going to the sheets to claw into them while holding his breath.

And then Harvey shifted, lifted his hips, and began to piston in and out again.

 

He couldn’t get enough of him.

Where Mike was concerned, Harvey was insatiable. The second he had heard that moan, raw and uncensored and true, he knew that he wanted to hear and see Mike come again. He had been with a few men before—a few experiments with college friends and an ill-conceived one-night thing while stoned with a former roommate—but Mike was the only one so responsive; he had lost it so easily with Harvey inside of him, tightening deliciously as he had jolted in his arms and spilled freely all over himself. He suddenly wanted to be enveloped in Mike; to be drenched in their shared perspiration, to be covered in Mike’s come, to fill him with his own until it was spilling out onto the bed and his cock at every thrust. He wanted Mike to still be hard when they were done so he could climb atop him, to return the favour and ride him until he came again inside him. He wanted Mike inside and out, to infect every inch of his bedroom, his condo, his life. _I love you. I love you. I love you_.

Mike wailed below him, his smiling mouth wide open and eyes shut tight as he took everything Harvey gave. He watched on in wonder as Mike almost vibrated below him, spilling again amidst euphoric jolting and quivering, and it was his undoing. A firm grip on Mike’s hips, Harvey thrusted deep for the last time and fell head-first over the edge, filling him with everything he had.

When the coloured spots cleared out of his vision, and his breath returned, he leaned down to press his forehead to Mike’s. ‘Hey…you okay?’

He got a nasal grunt in return. ‘I think we both need a shower, but I’m not sure I can move.’

‘We need to change the sheets too.’

‘Nnh…’

‘So…how was it?’

He found energy quick; Mike’s head shot up, eyes snapping open. ‘You’re actually asking me that?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve never…I mean…I can’t even find words. I didn’t think it was possible to come that hard.’ He paused. ‘What about…was it alright for you?’

‘Mike, I had to keep repeating the names of all the Yankees in my head to stop myself from coming the second I got inside you. The sounds you made, the way you moved your hips, the way you reacted to me inside you…’ Harvey blinked a few times, the recent memory of the noises echoing through his mind again. ‘Jesus, I can’t even focus…every second was incredible.’

Although the answer seemed to come as a shock, Mike seemed satisfied enough, settling into his arms as he rolled them onto their sides and pulled the blankets up around them for warmth. There was a moment of quiet as they got comfortable, then Mike nuzzled his ear. ‘Can I…try doing that to you sometime?’

‘Being on top?’

‘Yeah…I mean…if you don’t mind.’

It didn’t really feel right to use the words ‘will you marry me’ minutes after the first time they’d had sex and still covered in the sticky evidence. Instead, Harvey pecked him on the lips, holding him as close as he could. ‘We can try that out later, if you’ve got the energy.’

The second round would wait; too tired to move, Harvey let Mike drift off to sleep cocooned in his arms, the world outside the condo a faint buzz against the soft drum of their heartbeats. It would be a long time before the world outside their room would be safe for a Mark. He knew as much as Mike did that the world would not change overnight. Even so, Harvey swore he would keep Mike safe until that day came, then followed him swiftly into the sweet pulls of slumber.


End file.
